Cracks
by Bakura's Guardian Angel
Summary: In the beginning it was simple. A simple day, a simple gift, a simple promise..." The first of a sequel about various events in Ryou's life.


A/N: The first in a series of One Shots...

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"In the beginning it was simple. A simple day. A simple gift. A simple promise...How could I have known the future it would lead to?"

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It was bright.

The sun, though watery in appearance, reflected off of the remains of the morning's rainstorm, making everything shimmer brilliantly. The last shreds of gray cloud were whispering their way out of the sky, leaving a pale blue canvas behind.

A beautiful day to take a visit to the cemetery.

The eight-year-old boy knelt before a white marble tombstone. Blue-gray veins ran its length, texturing the cold stone. A dove was engraved in the upper right corner, and a border of marbled roses underlined the name and date inscribed. The boy let the fingers of his right hand wander over the name solemnly, though a tender smile graced his face. His other hand carefully held a deep pink tulip.

With an inaudible sigh he pulled a neatly folded piece of paper out of his pocket. "Here you go Amane, I won't miss a day. Promise." He kissed the paper and laid it down in the grass beside the grave marker.

"Ry? Are you almost ready?"

Ryou looked over his shoulder at the man standing behind him. His dark hair was pulled back and he wore a nice jacket over a button-down shirt.

"Yes…Almost." He looked back at the grave, tracing the words with his eyes.

_Amane Elaine Bakura; May 19, 1993 -- May 8, 1999 _

May 8th. That had been just over a week and a half ago. Today was May 19th, Amane's birthday. Ryou considered May 8th to be the worst day of his life. Nothing could be worse than what had happened. It shouldn't have happened…

His mother had been walking he and Amane home from school. Amane, curious and lively as ever, had been running ahead, skipping and sprinting, her bright white-blonde hair bouncing in tight curls. Racing to get home first so she could have the pick of snacks from the cupboard.

"Ryou, keep and eye on your sister." His mother had told him, walking behind him slightly.

"I am mom. She's right there." Ryou grumbled. He'd had a fair bit of third year testing that day, and his only friend, not his friend anymore, had stolen his best rubber ball that they used to play 'wall-ball' with. The boys in his class had also made fun of him again that day for his hair. They would ask him why he looked like a girl and if he dressed like one at home too.

They were catching up to Amane who had stopped at the corner to wait for the crossing light to give the signal. As soon as it did, Ryou knew she would be off again, sprinting towards home.

"Ryou. Please go hold your sisters hand so she can cross the street" His mother said impatiently, her phone ringing loudly. She answered it.

"She crosses the street by herself every day! She doesn't need my help." Ryou complained, scuffling along. He was looking at the ground, kicking a pebble, so he didn't see when Amane crossed the street as the crossing light flashed green.

Suddenly the phone his mother had been speaking into clattered to the ground. She sprinted past him. "Amane no!" She screamed as the little girl, giggling, skipped into the road.

Of course Amane wouldn't know to look for cars even after the light had turned green. Why would she? Green meant that walkers crossed and cars stayed. She stopped in the middle of the street to answer her mother's call.

Ryou looked up to see his mother leap into the middle of the street and wrap her arms around her daughter. That was when the car hit them.

Ryou, eyes wide, watched the dark green SUV speed across the four-way stop; too impatient to wait for the red light. The impact made a dull thud and a sickening crunch as their bodies were knocked backwards. The boy's heart, having stopped, restarted and began hammering in his chest. He wanted to run into the street, help them up. They were ok of course; they had to be. But he was paralyzed. His feet wouldn't move.

Eyes frozen open, feet glued to the ground, fingers numb, Ryou gazed at their still bodies lying in the street, those of his sister and mother, as the green car sped around them, zooming off. A long moment passed, the entire street holding its breath. Movement. People started stepping out of their cars, rushing past Ryou on the sidewalks, murmuring.

"Are they ok…?"

"Oh my gosh, how hard did the car _hit_ them?"

"Someone call an ambulance!"

After what felt like an eternity Ryou got feeling back in his legs. He dropped his book bag and sprinted over to the congealed cluster of people circling his mother and sister. His thoughts screamed at him, contradicting, countering, and lying to him. _They're both dead, no they aren't. The car hit them too hard, but not _that _hard. I can't live without them…I'm going to have to. _

He squirmed through the people, "Amane!" He cried out as he broke through the thick wall. Someone grabbed his arm as he jumped towards the lifeless figures before him.

"Hey, you need to go home son." Said a tall man with the beginnings of a black beard. "This isn't the place for you." Ryou shook him off, whirled, and collapsed to his knees beside his mother, her arms still wrapped around the little white-blonde haired girl she'd tried to save.

His mother's right side, the side facing him, was completely bruised. Blood soaked one of her legs and a spot on her shirt. Her right arm, black and purple, was limp and very frail. When Ryou placed his hand on it he pulled away fearfully, feeling that the bones were no longer solid and in place. The left side of his mother's face was scratched multiple times from brow to chin. There was a lot of blood smeared on her skin. Her left arm was no different after colliding with first the car, then the concrete. Her head had a very large gash on the back that was raw and bloody. Her left leg was angled oddly, but her right appeared to be mostly unharmed except for the blood that was soaked through her pant leg.

"Hey where's your father?" A woman asked kindly. "Do you know his number?"

Ryou closed his eyes and shook his head. "Africa." He whispered.

He opened his eyes again, wincing, as he looked at his mother, bleeding and dirty, again. He kept his eyes away from Amane. He didn't want to see her damage yet. He laid a small hand on his mother's face. "Mom?" He mouthed. "_Mom?_" He said, a bit louder.

He vaguely remembered in their 3rd year health unit, about four months previous, they did CPR. He couldn't use that, but he could use the first step. Look Listen Feel. He looked; his mother didn't appear to be breathing. Her chest didn't rise and fall. He rolled his mother away from Amane and laid his head on her chest…1…2…3…no heartbeat. He didn't bother with the third step.

He took a deep breath and turned his face towards Amane. His little sister. His _only_ sister, and his best friend. As soon as he saw the blood streaking her hair and her face, crumpled in shock, he turned and ran away. He knew where his grandparents lived from here. He couldn't stand to look at his sister bloody and mangled like he had his mother…

Ryou felt tears form in his eyes as he looked at her gravestone, remembering. Then he was crying. He couldn't hold it in.

"Ry, what's wrong…I know it's very sad, but you need to be strong for me because what will I do if you leave me too?"

Ryou dropped the tulip and rubbed his eyes, doing his best to stall the flow of salty tears. "It was my fault. It was me. I could have saved her."

"No, Ryou, you couldn't." His father said, kneeling beside him. "Maybe it was just their time, Ry. We don't know why it happened, but you know Mom wouldn't want to see you like this. She'd want you to be happy and smile again. She loved it when you smiled."

He paused. "Your mother once told me that you had the smile of an angel, you know that? I thought she must have been talking about your sister because boys aren't angels. But…you know, I think she was right. So you need to smile again for them."

"But Amane…why didn't I just do what mom said? She _told _me to watch her. To hold her hand before she crossed. I didn't listen to her. Amane died and it's my fault!" He wiped his eyes again angrily.

There was some silence between them, the watery sun warming their faces. Finally his father pulled him up, rubbing his head. "I think its time to go home, eh? I have something for you."

They walked towards his father's black sedan. As they got in the car, Ryou in the back, his father said, "You know what day it is?"

"Amane's birthday." Ryou replied sadly without missing a beat.

His father nodded, pulling out of the cemetery into the busy street. "I had a gift for her. It's a souvenir. I got it dirt cheap, but it's worth a lot. She'd want you to have it, don't you think?" His eyes bore into Ryou as he looked in the rear-view mirror at him.

"Why don't you give it to her?" Ryou said, gazing sightlessly out the window.

His father sighed, "I can't just leave it at a cemetery. Someone would steal it Ry. I don't want it to go to a museum where no one can really appreciate it either. I know Amane would have loved it, she loved shiny things…Can you love it for her?"

Ryou sighed, mimicking his father.

As they got back to he and his father's apartment, one considerably smaller then that of his mother and sister and he when they'd lived together due to his father's low wages, his father immediately went into his "master bedroom". Ryou looked around as he waited in the entry. Boxes still cluttered corners, filled with belongings that had no place yet.

Finally he came back out with a wrapped box, a large bow on top. He shrugged when Ryou gave him an exasperated look. "I wrapped it when I got it, quite a while back while I was still in Africa." He explained.

When Ryou hesitated in taking it he said sternly, "Ryou. Amane would have appreciated this I just know it. So I want you to appreciate it for her." When Ryou still remained silent he pleaded, "Please? Love it for her as a gift from dad." Ryou couldn't help but smile a bit. He accepted the box.

Unwrapping it unenthusiastically, Ryou looked in. A carved wooden box (obviously meant to be a jewelry box), a garden engraved on the lid, was inside. Ryou opened it up. The insides were red velvet. In the center was a simply designed pendant. A thick ring with a loop at the top and darker gold, upraised lines spaced at regular intervals. Inside the ring was a triangle, it's three corners touching and welded to the ring's sides. The triangle had trails of gold that formed a circle in the middle, which had another golden sphere inside them and had the likeness of an eye staring up at him. On the outside of the Ring, between the dark lines, were pins that bore sharp tassels. The five tassels jingles musically when Ryou lifted it.

To his surprise…it was _warm_.

He stated this out loud to his father who replied, "Must be the velvet. It probably retains some heat and keeps it nice and warm."

Ryou nodded and looked back down at the item he held. The pendant was very pretty, and Ryou knew that it was true. Amane would have adored it. It was meant for her, not him.

"Thank you." Ryou said, putting it back in the velvet and closing the lid. "It's really pretty. Amane would have loved it. I'll tell her all about it."

His father nodded then said, "Do _you_ like it?"

Ryou paused, then said slowly. "Yes. I love it too." His father nodded with a smile.

"Here." He pulled a soft leather cord out of his pocket. "If you ever feel like wearing it you can put this on it. But I know that isn't the 'in' thing, so you really don't have to."

"Thanks anyways." Ryou said, accepting the cord. "I'm going to go in my room now." He said, then picked up the box and walked down the hall to the door at the end. His door was covered with pictures of him, his mother, his father, and his sister. Various places they'd been, postcards from his father's expeditions, letters from his grandparents. All were posted on the front of his door for people to see.

He stepped in. The forced smile fell off his face, leaving a solemn visage behind.

His room was small, by regular standards, but he didn't mind it. Rather then make him feel confined or smothered, the enclosed space made him feel safe. He looked around his room, putting the wooden box on his small bed. He had pictures hanging on the walls as well as the door. Most were family photos…he'd taken to collecting them over the past years. Some were his own stick-figure drawings. He'd decided almost immediately after putting them all up that he was going to take all the pictures down, though he hadn't gotten around to it quite yet.

It had occurred to him that looking at his mother and sister, caught in fleeting moments in the past when things had been joyful, well, it made him very sad. Nightmares about the crash plagued his eight-year-old mind. His logic had firmly come to the conclusion that if he didn't see their faces, the sadness would go away faster because he would be reminded of them less.

He moved to the first section of wall, surrounding the door, and began peeling the taped on photos and pictures away, dropping them into an untidy pile on the floor. Memory after memory, face after face. When he would come to one of his father, he passed over it. There was no need to tear down a face that he could still see every day.

Continuing on his way, he took down bits of his past. A distant birthday, his own, with Amane sitting on his lap. A class field trip, his mother as the chaperone standing with a smile in the background. A family photo, everyone except dad who'd been in South America researching Aztec burial grounds. Each added itself to the pile until the wall that housed the entrance and exit to the room was almost completely cleared except for a few of him alone or his father and some postcards from grandparents and other relatives.

Ryou picked up the pile and took it out into the kitchen where his father sat at the table with a mug of coffee reading a book. He looked up when Ryou entered.

"What do you have there, Ry?" He asked with a puzzled look on his face.

"Just some pictures." He informed innocently. "Do we have a box I could put them in for safe keeping?"

His father stood up with a huff, putting down his book. "I'm sure we do what with the move and all. Let's see what we can find…" He walked over to their storage closet and rummaged around inside for a few moments until he returned to the table with three boxes, each ranging in size. "Big, medium, or small?" He inquired.

Ryou looked at each. "I have more pictures I need to put away so I need the big one." He finally said.

"Alright, here you go." His father said, spinning the box in his hands and handing it to his son. He put a hand on his shoulder. "You ok, Ry? You seem down."

Ryou smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. "I'm ok."

His father smiled, the wrinkles around his eyes crinkling, "Good." Then he sat back down and was gone into the depths of his book. Ryou carefully piled the pictures in the box and took it back to his room where he placed it by his bed so he could put more pictures in it later.

Sitting down on his bed, the wooden box shifted with the change in weight and nudged his arm. He looked at it and opened its carved again, pulling out the gift that hadn't been meant for him. On a whim he untwisted the leather cord and tied it tightly around the second smaller loop so that it dangled like a necklace.

Holding it carefully he wondered what Amane would have done with it. He didn't have to wonder long. He knew that she, unlike a collector or person who valued such things from a distance, would have held it, kept it with her, and worn it 24/7. She would take it to school and show it off to her kindergarten classmates. She would wear it around her neck and point out to every person she met that it was from her dad.

He looked at it. He knew he was the type who would leave it in its gently protected box. A treasure to be admired, but not touched. He thought back to what his father had said to him just earlier. He'd said to love it _for _her, and appreciate it like she would have.

He sighed and stood up to look out his tiny, dust-filmed, window. He wiped off a layer of the gray screen and looked up at the cloudless blue sky. He whispered, "I'll wear it for you Amy, all the time just like you would. You can look at it whenever I do." With that unheard promise he put on the gift.

It must have been his imagination that the room suddenly felt darker. And the breath of wind he felt rush over his skin was a draft from the poorly sealed window, of course.

But he knew he didn't imagine the softly whispered words, "Marhaban, ghulam saghir…"

And he knew that the shadow that appeared before him was not a trick of the light. He looked at the figure. Unsmiling, he appeared to be an older version of himself. Ryou knew he should be afraid, or at least shocked, but instead he felt...nothing.

They looked at each other. Young innocence and ancient wrath stared unblinkingly until the younger asked, "Who are you?"

With the silence broken, the tension smoothed, and a small smirk slid fluidly onto the older figure's face. "Anta awwal." He replied.

The words fell like rain. Each syllable of the foreign words were exact and articulated. Ryou held the pendant between his two hands and said softly, "Ryou Bakura…"

"A coincidence then…" The shadow said in perfect English as though to itself. "Or perhaps not." He looked at the boy again, examining him as one might a piece of merchandise they were considering purchasing but had yet to decide if it was what they were looking for.

He looked at the boy's face, but his eyes penetrated deeper, looking at what was under the surface. He saw perfectly well the tragedy that had happened, recently. The pictures in the box on the floor testified to that.

He also saw that the child was cracking because of it. Like a clay pitcher left out in the sun after a few too many uses, cracks were spread over his surface. He was a fragile mortal, and the figure knew it would take little effort to break him further. Easily influenced, easily controlled, the perfect human.

"Ryou." He said, testing the name. Then he said in a voice like black silk, "I am known as Bakura."

Ryou nodded silently. It was natural that someone who looked so much like him would have his name too. Suddenly he asked, "Are you real?"

A vicious smile spread over Bakura's face. "Very much so, ghulam saghir." He stepped towards the sweet-looking little boy, standing over him. "I'm as real as you are." He continued.

Ryou pursed his lips, confused, but still unafraid. Looking around the room he said, "How did you get here?"

"I came with this..." He murmured, touching the pendant. "You could say it's my home."

"Then can father see you?" Ryou pressed.

Bakura lifted his eyes from the pendant and locked with the boy's. He explained, "No, my presence here is for you alone, ghulam saghir. The holder of the Millennium Ring. This," He continued to trace the pendant's smooth contours, "was a gift to you?" He asked with little interest.

Ryou smiled sadly, "Yes, it was actually my sister's. But she died before…" he trailed off.

"Dead...yes, death plagues us all, tormenting us, stealing from us our happiness, those who are dearest to us." Bakura commented distractedly, his eyes fixed on the window. Suddenly he turned back to Ryou, his eyes glinting. His hand touched the boy's shoulder. "I have…a bargain to make with you." He said casually. "If I give _you_ something you want, something to replace the loss of your sister, will you help me to find something that I want? Because I too lost my family, little one, and I need help to find them."

Ryou looked up at him, his hazel eyes wide. The shadow was just like him, he realized. And he was offering him anything he wanted... He looked down, thinking. He knew what he wanted. To reverse the past, but that was illogical. The next best thing…Quietly he admitted, "Everyone makes fun of me. I want some friends…I want to have a lot of friends who will play with me all the time."

Kneeling down, Bakura looked directly at him, the smile suddenly gone. "And if I give you friends who will always play with you, you will help me and do as I ask until I am finished?" He lifted the boy's chin, forcing their eyes to meet. "You will be a good host won't you?"

Not truly understanding the gravity of his agreement, Ryou nodded. Bakura stood up, his hand trailing on Ryou's shoulder. "Very good then. When I am ready, you will have all the friends you desire. And in return you will aid my efforts. We will speak in the future."

He walked back to where he'd originally appeared, but Ryou called back to him. "Wait! Are…are you my friend too?" He asked quietly.

The same knowing smirk found its way back to the fading shadow's face. Eyes gazing unblinking at Ryou's face he said, "I'm your _best_ friend Ryou."

And with that he disappeared.

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Keep watch for the sequel: "Breaking"

Please leave a review on your way out. Check my profile for information concerning this story and its coming sequels...


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